


Better the Devil You Know Than the Devil You Don't Know

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2374391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, once again we have d’Artagnan in distress.<br/>The only warnings are that there is some mild manhandling of dear d’Art, nothing really graphic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better the Devil You Know Than the Devil You Don't Know

“Ah, my little Gascon,” Sebastien purred as he trailed his fingers down the lean body of the young Musketeer. He had removed the boy’s shirt once he had dragged him unconscious to his bedroom. Those other stupid Musketeers couldn’t see what was right under their very noses. Well more fool they and he would end up reaping the benefits of their blindness.

Pushing the youngster’s bangs aside, Sebastien placed a soft kiss on d’Artagnan’s lips. He knew that if the boy had been awake no doubt d’Artagnan would have tried to take a bite out of him. Truth to tell he would have relished the fight. Chuckling to himself, he gave one last glance to the boy before leaving him for the moment.

++++

*Two days earlier*

“Who is that?” Aramis looked at Athos and Porthos as they came down the steps from Treville’s office.

There was a gentleman talking to Rochefort in the middle of the courtyard. The man was dressed as regally as a prince. Ruffles not withstanding, he was a handsome individual. 

“And here I thought you had the fanciest clothes this side of Paris, Aramis,” Porthos snorted and earned himself a light kick to his shins.

“Now boys,” Athos’s raised a brow in warning. But his gaze never wavered from the newcomer. Something tugged at the back of his memory. He lost the thread for the moment and shook his head. No doubt if it were important it would come back to him.

“I say, Rochefort’s introducing d’Artagnan to that man,” Aramis frowned. Why it should worry him so he did not know. But something in the way their unknown visitor was watching d’Artagnan reminded Aramis of a starving animal that has its prey well and truly caught between its paws.

“Why in God’s name are you men standing in the middle of the stairs?” Treville barked as his best soldiers blocked the way.

“Sir,” Athos exclaimed in surprise, “apologies.”

“Well what has transfixed you three so?” Treville noticed the baffled expressions the three men wore.

“That man there that d’Artagnan’s speaking with?” Porthos grunted. For some reason he too had a bad feeling about the stranger.

“Ah,” Treville glanced at them, knowing they all had d’Artagnan’s best interests at heart. “Comte de Fontaine.”

“Never heard of the man,” Athos murmured quietly while concentrating on the hand this comte placed on d’Artagnan’s arm. 

“He’s not from around here,” Treville explained. “I believe the comte hails from the province of Saintonge.

“Where’s that?” Porthos was ready to take the stairs two at a time and tear that man away from their youngest. Something did not sit well with him and that usually meant trouble. D’Artagnan seemed to have the knack to attract it.

“Saintonge is located on the west central Atlantic coast,” Treville pushed his way between the men figuring that might be the only way he’d make it down the steps.

“He’s a long way from home,” Aramis noted and spied the oily smile Comte de Fontaine was treating their pup too. “Something’s off about that one,” he spoke softly to his friends so that their captain wouldn’t hear his words.

“The region where the comte comes from is well known for its grapes,” Athos added that small piece of trivia.

“You don’t say,” Aramis listened attentively wondering why that fact was so important.

“Yes, they are used to produce Cognac and Pineau des Charentes.”

“Of course *you* would know that,” Aramis chuckled.

“Pineau... what?” Porthos stared at Athos oddly.

“It’s an aperitif, a fortified wine made from lightly fermented grapes and Cognac.”

“Oh, aye!” Porthos nodded. “Now I understand what Aramis meant,” he snickered at Athos’s resigned look.

“Gentlemen, let’s see what is going on down there before this fellow decides to whisk our young one away,” Athos’s tone was grim. His words were meant in jest, but that niggling memory that escaped him was screaming to be heard.

++++

*Down in the courtyard*

D’Artagnan was surprised as Rochefort detained him to introduce him to Comte de Fontaine. He had no idea why this man of nobility would want to speak with him. He could see that Rochefort appeared surprised as well.

“I understood from Rochefort that you grew up on a farm?” Comte de Fontaine eagerly watched the young man before him.

“Yes I did, for eighteen years until my journey led me to the Musketeers,” D’Artagnan was relieved as he spotted Captain Treville and his three friends coming toward him. Perhaps he could go about his other duties now.

“There you are, d’Artagnan,” Treville clapped the youngster on the arm. “I believe that you are supposed to be sparring with Athos shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” With a nod to both comtes, d’Artagnan walked away with Athos, Porthos and Aramis strolling beside him.

“Oh, d’Artagnan,” Comte de Fontaine called out. “I’m am only here for a few days more. Would you do me the honor of sharing a meal with me before I leave. I would greatly enjoy discussing farming techniques. No one here has ever farmed land and I have a small one outside my estates that is not doing so well. I could use some advice.”

“You can leave word for me when and where with the captain and he’ll make sure I’ll receive it.” With a nod and a smile in the comtes direction d’Artagnan continued on his way.

“Be careful,” Athos warned. “There is something not quite right about that gentleman.”

“Athos, you haven’t even exchanged two words with him,” d’Artagnan scoffed. “How can you even say that?”

“I don’t know if this helps Athos’s case but Porthos and I have the same feeling.” Aramis’s worried face watched the disbelieving one of d’Artagnan as their youngest went to retrieve his sword.

“We keep an eye on him at all times,” Athos whispered to his companions before joining d’Artagnan for their training exercise.

Porthos and Aramis sat on a nearby bench. To the other Musketeers scattered throughout the courtyard it appeared that the two men were watching their friends in action. In reality they had their eyes on the comte who they could see was watching the match attentively.

“Yup, that one bears keepin' an eye on all right,” Porthos was playing with his dagger and stabbed it into the top of the wooden bench so hard it splintered.

“Don’t attack the poor bench, Porthos. It didn’t do anything to you,” Aramis quipped but the usual light in his eyes wasn’t there. 

“Just practicin’,” Porthos growled.

“Oh then by all means carry on, my friend,” Aramis chuckled as he watched d’Artagnan and Athos locked in battle. “This may go on far awhile,” he announced wryly.

“Maybe Serge has somethin’ for us to eat,” Porthos went off in search of food. He was always hungry.

++++

*Later that same day*

A note was delivered to d’Artagnan at the barracks where he stayed. He saw it was from the comte requesting to meet him at the White Dover Inn for a light dinner. Hastily writing down his acceptance he handed it back to the messenger. Looking at the time, d’Artagnan grimaced. He'd be cutting it close as he hurried getting himself cleaned up.

++++

*White Dover Inn*

“So that’s why our crops haven’t been surviving,” Comte de Fontaine said as he poured more wine for them both. “My thanks for your help, d’Artagnan. I know I picked your brains throughout our meal but I knew you would have the answers I required.” Realizing their evening was quickly coming to a close, the comte knew he had to make his move now. 

“D’Artagnan would you mind being a good lad and ask the barkeep if he has anymore cheese?”

“Certainly,” d’Artagnan pushed his chair back and getting up strode away.

In the meantime the comte removed an item from his pocket, a vile as small as a thimble. Opening it up he poured its contents into d’Artagnan’s wine glass. Seeing the boy coming back he smiled. “Ah! My thanks, young man.”

As d’Artagnan finished his drink he noticed it had a bitter taste and wondered about it but didn’t overtax his brain too much on the matter. It wasn’t too long after that his head started to feel fuzzy and his mind muddled. Trying to get his mouth to work turned out to be a problem for him as nothing came out. He also started to feel sleepy and shaking himself awake did no good. 

Watching the child fight off the effects of the sleeping powder, the comte smiled wickedly into his own wine glass. Finally seeing d’Artagnan slump in his seat, he took action. “Barkeep the bill please. My friend seems to be in his cups and I will have to help him home.”

Settling the bill, Fontaine slung one limp arm over his shoulder, taking the rest of the boy’s weight against his own while getting the youngster into his carriage. His driver had instructions to take them to a remote inn he had passed on his travels to the garrison.

++++

*Aramis’s apartment*

Slamming the door behind him, Athos walked over to where Aramis and Porthos sat playing cards. “He’s not back yet and its gone on midnight!”

Throwing their cards on the table the other two men exchanged worried looks.

“Was he was that comte?” Porthos spat.

“D’Artagnan was to have had dinner with the man earlier this evening,” Athos said. “He should have been back by now.”

“I suggest we go on the hunt for our pup,” Aramis stood up to get his weapons as did Porthos.

“I told ya I had a bad feelin’ about em',” Porthos growled.

“Let’s inform Treville first and then be off,” Athos didn't need to glance behind him to know his friends always had has back. 

++++

*Present, two days later*

“Where the deuce are they?” Athos exclaimed in frustration as he, Porthos and Aramis had been scouring the city and everywhere else for that matter looking for d’Artagnan and still they couldn’t locate him. He knew Aramis had quite a lengthy discussion with Rochefort earlier about Fontaine and when he came back to tell them what he had found out... the news wasn’t what Athos wanted or needed to hear.

“It would seem that Rochefort has a barely nodding acquaintance with our dear Comte de Fontaine. It was Fontaine that insisted Rochefort introduce d’Artagnan to him,” Aramis rubbed at his forehead.

“And didn’t Rochefort think that odd?” Athos posed.

“Yes he did but thought it wouldn’t hurt anything to introduce them,” Aramis replied.

“What aren’t you saying?” Athos snapped at his friend’s unhappy expression.

“Rochefort did mention that there were a few unhealthy rumors about Fontaine that hadn’t reached his ears until after he had bid his adieus to the gentleman.” Aramis didn’t really want to mention this next part because he knew Athos would go ballistic on them.

“What unhealthy rumors?” Porthos growled.

“The man has an unpleasant appetite for pretty lads,” Aramis quickly responded, not meeting the gazes of his two best friends.

Smacking himself on the forehead, Athos realized what that niggling doubt at the back of his head had been now. "I knew there was something about Fontaine that bothered me from the start!" he was disgusted at his own slow wits. "I remember from my days at Le Fere there were murmurings about that man." Shaking with anger Athos could barely contain himself. “Mon dieu! And d’Artagnan’s with him,” he shouted. “I’ll run my sword through Fontaine if he’s harmed one hair of that boy’s head!”

“And we’ll be right behind you!” Porthos agreed. “But first we have to find them.”

“We go back out and keep up the search until we do. They couldn’t have gotten that far,” Athos didn’t wait for the others to follow as he raced back to the stables to saddle Roger.

++++

*Haven’s Inn*

When Fontaine came back to their room, he sat on the edge of d’Artagnan’s bed. Once again he trailed his fingers up and down the boy’s exposed chest. “So pretty,” he murmured. “You and I are going to have lots of fun together, eh?” Chuckling to himself he removed his jacket and pushed up his shirt sleeves.

Finally coming to his senses, d’Artagnan’s head felt like it was about to explode as he woke up. “That must have been some party,” he muttered. “Wish I could remember it.” Thinking he was by himself back in his own barracks it came as quite a surprise to him when he discovered he was spreadeagled on a bed with his hands tied to the bedpost and likewise his ankles. “What?”

“Ah! You’ve awakened,” Fontained turned around to grin at the youth.

“May I ask what you think you are doing?” d’Artagnan’s head was still spinning and he felt like he was going to be sick. “Did you drug me?”

“As to that then the answer is yes,” Fontaine shrugged. “As to what I am going to do,” he winked, “well I think you know.”

Eyes widening, d’Artagnan began to struggle but the ropes were too tight. “I’ll kill you for this!”

“You’re not exactly in a position to kill anyone, my pretty boy,” Fontaine laughed as he grabbed d’Artagnan by the chin and leaned in for a kiss, only to have the youngster bite his tongue. “Ouch! That hurt you insolent brat!” still he chuckled realizing he had a feisty one on his hands. 

Grabbing a fistful of the boy’s long hair, Fontaine glided a sharp blade lightly across d’Artagnan’s throat. Just enough to draw a minimal amount of blood. Leaning down he lapped it off the younger man’s neck.

“You’re sick!” d’Artagnan tried to buck him off as he felt a leg intrude between his own. 

“Yes, I’ve been called that before but names do not bother me.”

Playing with the boy’s nipples, the comte nicked them with his knife as well. He enjoyed the sight of blood on his bedmates. Fontaine couldn’t wait to get this one home with him.

Suddenly the door exploded, splintering into pieces as three furious figures barged through it.

“Oh thank God!” d’Artagnan’s vision was still blurry but the sight of his three friends brought joy to his heart.

One look at what was done to d’Artagnan had Athos’s dagger at the comte’s exposed throat. “Give me one good reason not to kill you right now?” he seethed.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan called out. “He didn’t get a chance to do much damage.”

“You’re idea of damage differs dramatically from mine,” Athos snorted as he took in the sight of his young friend bound to the bed and covered with bloody nicks and cuts. “Aramis!”

“I’m on it!” Aramis concentrated on checking the boy over while Porthos sliced through the bonds with his dagger. “D’Artagnan’s marks are mostly superficial from what I can tell without an extensive examination.” Looking into the boy’s pupils, Aramis snarled in disgust. “Fontaine drugged him that much is clear. D’Artagnan’s pupils are overlarge still.”

Shoving the comte hard against the wall, Athos was so tempted to just end the man’s life then and there, but glancing over at the boy shaking his head at him he relented. Making sure that Porthos had control over the scum he joined Aramis by d’Artagnan’s side.

It was fortunate for them that someone remembered seeing the comte with a young man riding this way in a carriage, otherwise the outcome could have been different. "Fontaine's left a trail of victims behind him but somehow has always managed to escaped the Bastille for his crimes," Athos mentioned as he helped Aramis with their youngest.

"At least we knew what we were dealin' with when we were up against the cardinal," Porthos commented as he kept a strong hold on Fontaine.

"Yes, sometimes it's better to deal with the devil you know than the one you don't," Aramis nodded his head as he and Athos helped their young one sit up in bed. Then they noticed their pup was shivering. Grabbing d’Artagnan’s shirt they helped him into it.

“Do you feel strong enough to stand?” Aramis watched as d’Artagnan stood on shaky legs that collapsed beneath him. “That answers that,” he snapped.

“I’ll carry d'Artagnan and he can ride with me on Roger,” Athos gently picked the boy up in his arms. “You know for a growing lad you’re a lightweight.”

“Serge keeps trying to fatten me up but it doesn’t seem to take,” d’Artagnan quipped. Even though it was Athos who carried him he felt Aramis ruffle his hair lightly. 

As the men were leaving Porthos had a suggested as he roughly shoved the comte ahead of him. “Ya know instead of us marking up d’Artagnan’s uniform maybe we should give the lad a scar or two on his face like the one I have. It would detract from d’Artagan’s pretty features.”

Sitting on top of Roger with Athos’s arms around his waist, d’Artagnan chuckled. “I’d like to see you try, Porthos.”

“You do know how to add levity to any given situation,” Aramis remarked to his huge friend as he mounted Belle. 

“Yeah but I was serious,” Porthos frowned as Athos and Aramis joined in d’Artagan’s laughter.


End file.
